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by Aphrodite-Venus-u.k
Summary: The accident that ruined Marcus Flint's Quidditch career.
1. Chapter 1

End

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

Author's Note: The accident that ruined Marcus Flint's Quidditch career.

Time: Marcus is twenty-seven; so about six year after Deathly Hallows...

Genre: Drama and Angst

Date Finished: December 15, 2010

Rating: PG

He felt the Bugler ram into his back and heard the awful sound. It was a sound that a Quidditch player never wanted to hear: the sound of bone breaking into a million pieces. He dropped the Quaffle. The pain was racing up his spine. He couldn't take it. The pain was unbearable. He fought to keep his eyes open. He fought the urge to pass out.

It was too much.

He found himself giving in.

No, it wasn't supposed to be like.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Darkness surrounded him. He lost his grip. He was falling, falling toward the ground.

He could hear the roar of the crowd behind him. He could hear cries of horror, cries of glee.

Now, it was gone.

He woke up. Things weren't right. This is not what he remembered. It was white, too white. Quidditch pitches weren't this colour. He didn't remember any white pitches.

"Lie still," his wife, Katie, whispered in his ear.

He was in her arms.

He looked up at her. Got gently hit over the head.

"Don't move," his father whispered him his ear." "Your mum's gone to get a Healer."

He was numb. He couldn't feel anything. It was like he was floating. It was like he was in another world. This was real. This was fake, a nightmare.

He sheet felt strange against his bare chest. Why could he feel that and not anything else? He didn't understand. This didn't make any sense.

He could hear voices in the background. They were talking about him. He knew that a Healer was touching him, but he couldn't feel it.

Crack.

It filled the room.

He felt that.

He swore under his breath.

"He's good," his father said. "He's cursing, he's good."

He didn't find it one bit funny.

He could hear them talking again. He couldn't understand them. It was like they were speaking a different language. He was pretty sure that they were speaking English.

"Never play again," someone said. "He'll never be able to move like he did."

"Can he walk?" someone asked.

"He should be able to," someone replied.

"It's over?"

"I'm positive."  
He felt his heart sink. He knew that this day would be come.

It was over.

This was the end.

But it didn't seem real.

It had been two months since the accident. It was also his first time on a broom since it happened.

He got on the broom and kicked off. He felt fine. What did the Healers know?

He flew for ten minutes. Nothing happened. He landed and got a Quaffle. Now it was time to test it.

He circled around to the goals. He raised his arm and prepared to score. As he drew back, a sharp pain shot through his body. He dropped the Quaffle.

Cursing, he landed.

It was true.

This is was end.

He sunk down to his knees.

It really was over.

Twenty-four years of training and just like that it was over.

Now, he had to get a "real job."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Marcus eyed the pitch. He had spent the past nine years here; two of those years he have been Capitan. Until six weeks ago, it had been his home away from home. Before, he had spent ten or more hours there six days a week for eleven months.

The only bad thing was he never got to see his three daughters and he didn't get to go to Katie's Healer appointments. (She was expecting twins in June.) Maybe it wouldn't be that bad. He held a university degree in Magical Creature Engineering. (It's the wizard version of a vet, expect the animals are a lot meaner and bigger.)

It wasn't like he had to get a job. He was getting a rather large pension from the Quidditch League. He had several million in the bank from Quidditch and a recent inherence. So, financially they were better than great.

So, it wasn't about money. He would just go crazy if he didn't get one. No way was he going to be stuck at home in a house full of crazy females for the rest of his life.

Nope, it just wasn't going to happen.

"Well, now, I didn't expect to see you here so soon," Head Coach Brent Holder said as he came up behind Marcus.

"I had to get my stuff," Marcus said.

Holder motioned to the bench on the sidelines. "Sit her down." Both men sat. "So, you done for good?"

Marcus stared out at the sunlight pitch. He was avoiding looking in the old man's eyes. "I guess."

"What'd you mean 'you guess'?"

"That's what everyone says."

"What do you say?"

"I don't know."

Holder pulled Marcus's head so he could look him in the eye. "Listen here, son, don't listen to them. They don't know you." The coach stood up. "They're a bunch of idiots sitting around waiting on a fat pay check. They don't care about people. By telling you that you're done, they just get that much more attention."

Marcus eyed his former coach.

Holder started toward the locker room. "If you ever want to come back, your spot will still be here."

"Okay."

"If you need any help, you know where to find me."

Marcus was pretty sure that he had heard this speech from somewhere. "Hey, did you come up with that on your own."

Holder laughed. "Yeah right boy. You should know me better than that." He smiled. "Just like I know you don't make your own plans."

"I do too," Marcus objected.

"Yeah, and the others are Comer's plans from Hogwarts."

"It's not my fault he gave them to me."

"Yeah, but it's the only way to kill the Kestrels." Holder paused. "You gonna leave them to us?"

Marcus nodded. "You never answered my question."

"Oh, from the wife."

"Why?"

Holder hit Marcus over the head. "That's none of your business." He continued to the locker room. "I met what I said."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Marcus kept his head down. He was tired of being hounded by the press. He just wanted a few moments of peace.

He sunk down against his house's lower basement wall. Life sucked. There was no other way around it.

His back still hurt. He couldn't lift anything, couldn't bend over, couldn't lift his arms very high, couldn't do much of anything. He couldn't even work for another two weeks. The hospital still hadn't fully released him from their care.

Yep, it really, really sucked.

Reality sucked even more.

It was in his nature to be on the move. Now, that he couldn't, he didn't know what he was going to do. This wasn't working for him.

But what choice did he have.

Sure, he was spending more time with his children, but he couldn't do that forever. They would go off to school, get a life of their own, and leave poor, old dad behind to rust.

He would get over it, maybe. Okay, he would never get over it. It was over.

People told him that the end was the beginning. He wasn't seeing the beginning; all he was seeing was the end.

**Author's Note: This story is going to be on hiatus. I will update after I get done with Speak Now. This year my goal is to write a fanfiction for every song off Taylor Swift's album "Speak Now." There'll probably end up being four or five more short chapters. **


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Author's Note: It's been almost five months since this story got put on hiatus and two months since my last Harry Potter story. I really missed it and wanted to get back to it. So, hear it goes. This is a placeholder chapter.

_**To Dana, thanks for waiting all this time... **_

Marcus looked out the huge window in his home in southern England. It was raining again. The lake below the house was flooded and the water had rushed over the lower part of his lawn. Luckily it stood no chance of getting to the house, which was up on a hill.

He took a sip of coffee. Really, he didn't care much for the stuff, but caffeine was addicting. Really, really addicting.

Upstairs he could hear his children playing. He didn't understand where they got all of their energy from. He wished that they would give some to him.

Katie came up behind him and put her arms around him. "So, what's up?"

"Nothing," he said.

Katie gently kissed his lips. "It's raining cats and dogs."

Marcus looks at her puzzled. He never did understand Muggle humour. Katie was half-blood, so she got the best of both worlds.

"It's raining hard," Katie said.

"Oh." Now, he understands.

"How are you feeling?" Katie said now concerned.

Marcus shrugged. "Been better."

"I know."

"Think you'll be able to work?"

Marcus had a Healer's appointment tomorrow. "Guess we'll find out."

Katie hopes that for his sake he can. She's getting worried about him. Maybe getting out of the house would be the best medicine for him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Bold= flashback**

Chapter Five

Marcus sat inside the hospital. He had just been examined by a Healer and believed that everything went well. At least, he hoped it did. He wanted to be cleared, so he could get on with his life or, at least, what was left of it. It wasn't the fact that he couldn't play Quidditch, it was the face that he couldn't do much of anything.

No one wanted him until he had that little slip of paper saying that he was clear and healed.

**11 years earlier**

**Marcus sat down hard in the Quidditch stands. His lungs were killing him. He couldn't breathe and his chest hurt. He buried his face in his hands and didn't move until someone touched him. He looked up. **

**"Are you okay?" Katie asked him. She had a look of concern on her face. **

** "Fantastic," he muttered. "Never been better." **

** Gently, she lowered his head onto her lap and began to stroke his dark hair. To her surprise, he let her. After a while he rolled over onto his back. Katie bent over and kissed his lips. He returned it. **

** "Forever yours Oliver," she thought as she kissed Marcus, "maybe." **

Marcus came out of his daze as the Healer came in.

"You're healing quite nicely," the Healer said.

Marcus nodded.

"I think you're ready to go to work."

That was exactly what Marcus wanted to hear.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Marcus entered the bedroom after the Healer appointment. Katie was lying in the bed. She was due in three weeks and very sick. She spent most of her time in bed these days.

"Hey," she said sitting up. "How did it go?"

Marcus crawled into bed and laid down beside her. "I cleared."

Katie's face lit up. "That's good!"

Marcus couldn't feel her excitement. He was looking at her. She looked rather pale and a little green. "Hey, are you okay?" He pulled her close to him.

Katie nodded. "Yeah, just tried."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Positive?"

Katie leaned against him. "What are we playing? Twenty Questions?"

Marcus looked confused. "What's Twenty Questions?"

"Never mind," Katie said. She buried her face into his shirt breathing in his soap smell and aftershave. "You smell good."

"I take it that's a good thing."

"Yes." She sighed and kissed him. "I want you."

"Really?"

"Really."

She got up and closed the door.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The next morning, Marcus climbed out of bed feeling rested. He did not know how that had happened. Katie had everyone fooled into thinking that she was this sweet, girl who would never do anything bad.

Yeah, right...

He knew better.

He entered the kitchen and put a pot of tea. He would have preferred coffee, but he had given it up. He decided that he like the stuff to much.

While his tea was boiling, he began to sort through the mail. It was bills, bills, and more bills, and a letter from his father. He tossed the letter aside; it was nothing to important. If it were, then his father would have come and got him. The bills, ah, he really should pay those. He rather enjoyed having running water in the house.

He was just about to open the first bill, when something in the fireplace caught his eye. He shook his head and stared. Why was Holder's face in his fireplace?  
"Come to the pitch, boy!" Holder snapped.

Marcus dropped his bill on the table and went over to the fireplace. "What?"

Holder sighed. "GET YOURSELF TO THE PITCH!"

"Why?"

"JUST DO IT, BOY!"

And Holder disappeared.

Marcus knew that he had no choice, but to go to the pitch.

_**The next chapter will probably be the last one.**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Thanks for following this story, guys! This will be the final chapter. **

Chapter Eight

When Marcus arrived at the pitch, Holder was waiting for him. This was not unexpected considering the fact that the coach had just been in his fireplace. Marcus sighed and walked, with his hands in his robe pockets, over to the older man.

"About time, boy," Holder snapped once Marcus reached him.

"Sorry," Marcus muttered.

Holder put his hand on Marcus's shoulder. "No hard feelings."

"What did you want?"

Holder sighed and looked out at the pitch. "This may come as a surprise to you, but I'm not as young as I used to be."

"No comment," Marcus said.

Holder looked at him. "Good, you'd better not have any."

Marcus smirked.

"So, how's your back feeling?"  
Marcus shrugged.

"Hurt?"  
Marcus did not respond.

Holder's tone changed. He placed his hand on Marcus's shoulder. "You can answer me, you know? No one would think any less of you, Marcus."

Marcus's head jerked up at the use of his first name. Holder never called anyone by their first name.

"Well, what's the answer?"

Marcus took a deep breath. "It hurts, but I can lift my arms up higher."

Holder nodded and closed his eyes. "Will it get better?"

"The Healers say that if will never go back the way it was before, but I should be able to have a normal life."

"You're lucky, you know that, right?"

Marcus looked at his former coach. "What do you mean?"

"It could have killed you or paralyzed you."

"True..."

"Now, back to the original thing for your presence here."

Marcus looked at Holder. "Yeah, why did you want to see me?"

"I'm retiring at the end of the season. There will be a coaching position open for next season. The team staff was discussing possible coaches and your name kept coming up. So, I volunteered to talk to you and here you are."

Marcus looked at him speechless. Him a coach?

"Well, what's your answer?"

Marcus looked at him and told Holder his answer.

**The end...I decided rather than me telling you what Marcus said to let you guys pick your own ending. I would love to hear your version. Peace out!**


End file.
